


Dating Your Crush: 6 Easy Steps

by tablemanners



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Café Musain, Crushes, High School, Idiots in Love, M/M, Modern Era, Oblivious Enjolras, Social Justice, Teen Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-03-05
Packaged: 2019-10-05 21:12:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17332442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tablemanners/pseuds/tablemanners
Summary: Grantaire is struggling with a debilitating crush he's had on Enjolras, a crush that has lasted approximately four years. The worst part is that Enjolras probably doesn't even know who he is. But then all of a sudden he's faced with interacting with Enjolras and he isn't quite sure how to cope! aka Grantaire is struggling and Enjolras is oblivious





	1. Step 1: Act Like and Idiot in Front of Him

**Author's Note:**

> Crushes are so stupid how do they even form? Anyway enjoy a tad of secondhand embarrassment (don't worry there's not too much yet)

Grantaire hustled through the crowded hallways, bumping into numerous peers and receiving nasty glares. He had to book it to get to his next class, roughly on the other side of the school. Each day Grantaire averted tardiness by mere seconds, and he wasn’t about to change that today. This was also the hall break he passed by Enjolras. 

He spotted the golden locks farther down the hall. They advanced at an impressive pace, bouncing up and down with each stride. Grantaire willed himself to pull his eyes away as they passed each other, shoulders nearly brushing. The moment was over instantly and left Grantaire with a hollow feeling of disappointment in his gut. It was the same as always. Enjolras didn’t even look in his direction—but why would he? It’s not like he knew Grantaire.

Grantaire, who had been crushing on him, an almost stranger, for the past four years of high school. Grantaire, who had never had more than two complete conversations with the other boy. Grantaire, who was starting to wonder if his obsessive crush was creepy. 

The overwhelming feeling of disappointment never lasted long because Grantaire was reasonable. He knew that he and Enjolras hung out with different groups and no matter what his stupid heart told him, they weren’t compatible. So once the moment had passed, he continued onto his next class and tried to pry Enjolras out of his mind. 

He and Enjolras crossed paths exactly three times a day. On the way to first period, before school had actually started. In their third period math class in which Enjolras sat at the very front with his activist friends and Grantaire retreated to the back with the underachievers. And finally, on the way to seventh period, where Grantaire was tromping to now. Nobody knew about his crush, of course. Eponine would laugh at him, and Montparnasse would probably tell Enjolras. Bahorel was actually friends with Enjolras’ group, so that was a definite no. Grantaire had been cradling a debilitating crush in secret for the past four years and as most do, he had learned to cope. 

He swung into woodshop as the bell rang. His teacher, Ms. Patri, raised her eyebrows at him but said nothing. A few more students trickled in after him and bashfully took their seats before Ms. Patri began to lecture on their next assignment. 

Drooping heads were jerked awake when the bell rang at the end of class, shrill and jarring. Ms. Patri stopped her spiel to wish the students a safe weekend, however didn’t sound especially sincere. Grantaire wasn’t bothered though. He was thrilled the week had ended and was very much looking forward to crashing at Eponine’s place for the next few days. Her parents ran some sort of illegal scam business, which meant they splurged their suspicious earnings on unnecessary junk before the government caught on to their unreasonably high income. Grantaire’s favorite splurge was the flat screen in their unfinished basement, hooked up to Netflix and whatever else you could possibly imagine. 

His thoughts stuttered to a halt when he noticed a familiar figure—tall, lean, and attention-grabbing. He hadn’t noticed the halls clear out, but now he was staring at Enjolras as he leaned up against a locker and checked his phone. Grantaire picked up his pace, not wanting the other boy to notice his ogling, when he felt himself lunge forward suddenly. He had tripped over his shoelace, knocking him off of his feet and onto the ground. He uttered a loud “shit!” as he toppled, alerting Enjolras of his presence quite gracefully. 

It was quiet for a second. Neither boy knew what to do with the situation. “Um, are you okay?” Enjolras finally asked, breaking the silence. Grantaire grimaced and met his gaze, doing his best to keep his face from turning an ugly shade of red. Standing above him was Enjolras, his phone hanging limply at his side as his curls fell into his concerned face. 

Grantaire pulled himself up quickly, brushing himself off and chuckling nervously. “I’m fine, thanks,” he sputtered, waving and shuffling away quickly. Once he turned the corner Grantaire paused to breathe. The memory replayed itself in his mind, fixating on Enjolras. His shoulders, his sharp jawline, his curly hair, everything—yep, Grantaire was unreasonably smitten. With a sigh, he picked up his pace and pushed the memory away. He could think about the encounter later. Now was for mocking shitty rom coms with Eponine and not thinking about Enjolras. 

\- - - - - 

“What the fuck, are they for real?” Eponine drawled, holding back an obnoxious snicker. She was splayed out on the XL blanket tossed haphazardly over the cold concrete floors. 

Grantaire was right next to her, mounting the patched up beanbag and slurping on a slushie. “If he did that in real life, she would be filing for a restraining order real fast.”

Grantaire snorted in agreement. “I mean, it’s a little sweet, right? If you get over the whole ‘I’ve been stalking you and impersonating your neighbor for the past six months’, no biggie.” 

Eponine laughed again, this time less than before. Her eyes were trained on the screen as the grown up Disney Channel actor attempted to deliver his lines believably. He was a shit actor, but Grantaire had to admit he was easy on the eyes. “Hey R?” Eponine asked suddenly, interrupting the cheesy dialogue. Grantaire turned his head towards her to let her know he was listening. “When does a crush become creepy stalker-ish?” 

His first instinct was panic. Did she know about his fascination with Enjolras? If so, how? It quickly subsided to empathy. If Eponine had learned about his crush, she wouldn’t beat around the bush like this. Clearly she had been dealing with a crush of her own. “Who is it?” he asked instead, tuning out the movie. 

Eponine sighed. “It’s stupid. This is stupid.” Grantaire didn’t pry, only gave her time to mull it over before she decided to continue. “It’s that kid in my Economics class, Marius. You know, the secretary of the social justice club? I’ve kind of been crushing on him for, like, a year.” 

If only you knew, Grantaire thought. What if she knew? Would she really laugh like he had presumed? His mouth went dry as the scene played out in his head. He admits he’s liked Enjolras for the entirety of their high school career, Eponine laughs and messages her closest friends, then tells him it’s hopeless. Yeah, that’s not ideal.

“R? R, say something,” she said bitterly, frowning at him. 

“Oh, uh, sorry? That you like him I guess? Crushes suck.” 

“Yeah I know but like, is it creepy? Am I creepy?”

“Shit, I hope not.” That was probably revealing a little too much.

“Wait, Grantaire,” Eponine began, gauging his reaction carefully, “do you have a crush too?”

His response was instinctive, barking out a sharp, panicked “no!” before she had even finished the question.

“You do! What the fuck bro, why didn’t you tell me? Who is he? It’s a he, right?” Eponine asked myriad questions, speaking rapid fire. His stubborn silence gave it all away. “You have to tell me! I told you about Marius, come on you ass!” 

He had fucked up. That was the main thought parading around his head. He felt faint and his hands were shaking just the slightest. On one hand, he did owe her. She trusted him with the secret about Marius, and he knew how closed off she usually was. He just wasn’t ready to talk about his crush out loud. It was stupid, irrational, and the slightest bit strange.  
“I--” He paused, looking away from her. 

If Bahorel hadn’t called him at that moment, he would have been totally screwed. Luckily for him, his ringer went off before he could finish that statement. “I gotta grab this,” he corrected, snatching his phone up and walking a few yards away. “Hello?”

“Grantaire? What’s up?” Bahorel asked, sounding chipper as always. “Hey, did you happen to trip in front of Enjolras this afternoon?” 

“What the fuck?” How did Bahorel know he had humiliated himself in front of Apollo himself? Better yet, why were they talking about it? “I mean, I did, but why does that matter?”

“Okay, good. He was freaking out about how some kid like, totally wiped out in front of him and lost their wallet. He thought it might have been you, but didn’t really know so I told him I’d call. Problem solved! He’s says he can return it Monday, or you could pick it up sometime this weekend if you wanted to text him. You should really keep your ID in your wallet.”

“I—he what? I mean, I don’t have his phone number.” Grantaire pieced together, trying to keep up with the conversation.

“No problem man, I’ll send it to you. Well, glad that’s resolved. See you Monday!” Grantaire was met with the dial tone and an irritated Eponine watching him suspiciously. 

“Were you talking to your crush?” She asked with squinted eyes.

“No, I wasn’t. I was speaking with Bahorel. Now either you rant to me about Marius or we drop the whole crush situation.” 

Eponine seemed to think about it, picking at her face absentmindedly. “Fine,” she settled with a grunt. “Okay, so Marius is super sweet right?”

The rest of the night was spent listening to Eponine whine about Marius and finishing the movie, which Grantaire paid very little attention to. The ping of his phone let him know Bahorel had texted him Enjolras’ phone number. He now had his crush’s phone number and was going to have to text him to get his wallet back. Grantaire wasn’t sure if this was a curse or a dream come true. 

\- - - - - - -

It had been a difficult few minutes trying to compose his text to Enjolras. Formal or funny? Friendly or nonchalant? Not as though it would make a difference, but is sure as hell made a difference to Grantaire. After what felt like hours passed he finally sent the message: “Hey, this is Grantaire. Thanks for picking up my wallet. Could I pick it up tomorrow?” Bland and down to business. Nothing weird, just a totally respectable text from a totally average peer who totally wasn’t crushing on the recipient of the text. Totally normal!

“No problem Grantaire. I can give it to you after 3pm tomorrow, I have work before then.”

Shit. Grantaire really sort of needed his wallet asap, or at least before noon. He still needed to get Gavroche a birthday gift and his party was at 12:30. “Okay, breathe,” Grantaire coached, thinking through his options. He could wait and risk the wrath of a soon-to-be 13 year old or suck it up and ask to pick it up from Enjolras’ work. The options were pretty evenly matched. The longer he waited, the more awkward he must seem to Enjolras. 

“Actually I sort of need it sooner. Could I pick it up from you work before then?”

A solid minute passed before Enjolras responded. “I have a break at 11:00, if you wanted to drop by the Arby’s then I could bring it out to you.”

“Sounds good.”

\- - - - 

The blinking clock on his aged dashboard read 10:48. Grantaire was going to go meet up with Enjolras, which still sounded unreal. He was actually staying pretty calm for the most part. Sure, he was a little twitchy, but that was fine. He was fine. With a final sigh of defeat, he turned the key and backed out of the driveway. 

He pulled into the empty Arby’s lot at precisely 11:00. Business was slow today, he presumed. Peering inside, he was able to see Enjolras sitting patiently in one of the booths with his wallet out on the table. Here goes nothing.

Enjolras was lost in his thoughts, forehead scrunched as he bit his lip and eyed his phone warily. He had assumed Grantaire wasn’t the most punctual, but was hoping he would show up soon. The clang of the door opening alerted him of Grantaire’s entrance. 

“Hey, thanks again dude,” Grantaire said almost frantically. His cheeks were brushed with red, no doubt from the bitter cold outside, and he looked uncomfortable standing in front of Enjolras in the nearly empty fast food joint. He took his wallet and was about to retreat when Enjolras stopped him.

“Wait, I have a question,” he stated with definitive clarity Grantaire had never seen before—or at least had never seen directed at him before.

“Huh?” He lilted, eyebrows raised in confusion and panic. “Um, what’s your question?”

Enjolras hesitated and kept his gaze on the wallet in Grantaire’s hand. “Those drawings in your wallet, did you do them?” 

Grantaire had completely forgotten about the artist trading cards stored in his wallet. It had been some dumb assignment for his art class, make 10 index card sized art pieces, and Enjolras had seem all of them. “You looked through my wallet?” He asked instead, deciding anger was better than embarrassment. 

“Well, yeah, I was trying to find out who it belonged to. Most people have some type of ID in their wallets, you know?” Enjolras was doing his best to save face, but Grantaire looked upset. He probably shouldn’t have looked in it after he didn’t see an ID, but he was curious and it wasn’t like he meant any harm. “Listen, they’re good, okay? I’m sorry if I invaded your privacy. I just wanted to ask if maybe you’d help design some posters to hang around the school for my club.”

Grantaire huffed, his hot-headedness clouding his better judgement. “Why should I help you? I’m not just going to make you art for free, we’re not even friends!” 

Enjolras jaw went slack, surprise morphing into hurt. “I was just asking, goodness. I said I was sorry, okay! My mistake.” Enjolras stood up, turning his back towards Grantaire. “Go ahead and go, clearly you don’t want to be wasting your valuable time with me.”

Grantaire was pathetic. He knew he was, and now Enjolras knew he was. Why had he lashed out? An opportunity to get to know Enjolras presented itself and Grantaire obliterated it in record time. “W-wait,” he head his voice call out, not sure exactly what he was going to say. Enjolras turned, casting a stoic glare his way. “Um, when does your club meet?”

Enjolras huffed. “And you care because?”

Another pause. Grantaire’s face contorted as he searched for right words. “If Bahorel can stomach your social justice shit I can too. I figured I’d see what it’s all about then decide if I’ll make a poster for your little friend gang or not. Or am I not invited anymore?” 

Enjolras didn’t seem to lighten up, but did turn to fully face the other boy. “Everyone is welcome, everyone is accepted,” he stated, clearly repeating some sort of mantra. “Of course you can come. I couldn’t prohibit you from attending, even if I didn’t want you there. Club policy.” He brushed his hair out of his eyes and unlocked his phone, standing uncomfortably far from Grantaire for a civil conversation. After scanning over what Grantaire assumed was his calendar, Enjolras answered his first question. “Next meeting is Tuesday after school in Mr. Lamarque’s room. Feel free to show up.”

“Fine. Thanks,” Grantaire said in a clipped voice, pocketing his wallet. “See you Tuesday.” Before Enjolras could get the last word Grantaire was gone, visible getting into his second-hand car through the dirty windows of the restaurant. 

In the safety of his own vehicle, Grantaire allowed himself to breathe. On the plus side, he had his first longer than a minute and a half conversation with his massive crush of four years and had invited himself to his club. On the down side, he had behaved like a complete ass and now Enjolras disliked him, which was almost as bad as Enjolras not knowing who he was. At least he knew him now. “That’s what I can progress,” he mused, turning over the engine a few times before the car began to run smoothly.


	2. Step 2: Invade His Personal Friend Group

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grantaire meets the rest of the squad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be 100% honest I haven't proofread this so I hope there are no typos

He made it to Gavroche’s party on time with a hastily wrapped Transformers toy (is that what kids liked these days? He wasn’t sure) and a box of Walmart brand cookies. Gavroche was especially bratty.

“R, Eponine says you have a crush. You gotta tell me,” he said smugly, climbing over the couch to plop down next to him. Eponine was perched across the way with a devilish smirk on her face. Azelma had opted out of the event, instead choosing to spend the night at one of her friend’s. The rest of the party guests consisted of Montparnasse, who had a shifty looking gift bag, two younger boys who were friends of Gavroche’s, and Bahorel. 

“Yeah, like that’s gonna happen you twerp. Keep dreaming and accept my present.” 

Gavroche rolled his eyes in dismay. “Loser,” he spat, baring his teeth at Grantaire. “What’d you get me?” 

“Just open it asshole,” Eponine said as she shifted in her seat. Her gift, currently unwrapped, was hidden behind her and she was just about through with trying to hide it. Gavroche stuck his tongue out at her before ripping into the wrapping paper like a deranged beast. 

“Cool,” he announced, holding the package up to show the others. Releasing the breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding, Grantaire thanked the heavens the tiny gremlin liked his gift. 

Gavroche opened the rest of the gifts, chuckling gleefully at each new thing. Everyone was 95% sure Montparnasse shoplifted his gift, but hey, it’s the thought that counts. As the festivities began to calm, Bahorel made his way over to Grantaire.

“Were you able to get your wallet?” He prodded carefully. Reminded of his previous blunders, Grantaire shrunk back into himself. 

“And make Enjolras think I’m the biggest asshole out there? Of course, you know me,” the self-deprecating tone was pretty easy to read and Bahorel gave him a look of sympathy.  
“Even though you are an asshole, I’m sure he doesn’t think that. Did something happen?”

Grantaire felt a surge of emotion, which was a big no-no in his book. No way was he going to get all upset about ruining his chances with the boy of his dreams at a 13 year old’s birthday bash. Why even be bothered by the whole scenario? 

“Nothing happened, I was just a douche. Now he’s never gonna speak with me again. Not that I care or anything,” He added quickly, not wanting Bahorel to catch onto his pining. Sadly for him, the Thenardier children had been listening in.

“Is that who you have a crush on?” Gavroche asked from behind them, holding a drained juice box and an old GameCube controller. “That Enjolras guy?” 

Eponine perked up, suddenly very invested. “Woah bro, did you actually do something productive? Who’d you say?” She was up and in his conversation with Bahorel while the poor guy was still trying to piece together what was happening. 

“Wait,” he began with a hint of excitement, “do you like-like Enjolras?” 

Somehow Grantaire’s love life (or lack thereof) had become the talk of the party. The rest of the guests gathered around to watch Grantaire stammer out some bullshit about totally not crushing on the gorgeous blond angel.

“I didn’t know you knew Enjolras,” Bahorel spoke, still giddy with excitement from his new discovery.

Inhale. Exhale. “I don’t know him,” the crowd hushed to listen to his defense. “I mean, I know of him, but I don’t really know him. So I can’t have a crush on him, even if I think I do.” 

“So you admit you like him?” This time it’s Eponine, who has stopped teasing and has calmed down to a more morose state. No doubt from empathy. 

Fuck it. “I guess so,” Grantaire said, flinging his arms in the air in defeat. “Is that what you want? Who’s going to tell him first?”

“R, hush, no one’s going to tell him. Why didn’t you tell us?” Bahorel asked, rubbing Grantaire’s back soothingly. “Listen, why don’t you come to the meeting with me this Tuesday? I can introduce you guys again, and you could get to know him.”

“I’m already going to the meeting on Tuesday. Enjolras invited me.”

This summoned a brilliant smile from Bahorel. “There you go, it couldn’t have been that bad then!” 

Grantaire shook his head, frustrated. “That was before I made an ass of myself. Can we all stop talking about my pathetic crush now?” 

Thankfully, Gavroche was on his side. “Yeah you shits, this is supposed to be about me!” The diversion of sorts helped Grantaire escape the concerned wrath of his friends.  
Eponine gave him a ‘we’re discussing this later’ look before following Gavroche down into the basement. Bahorel just smiled and shrugged, looking sorry for him. Montparnasse walked in from the bathroom, patting down his jacket and frowning at the empty room and disheartened Grantaire. “Did I miss something?” He asked indifferently, reaching into his pocket for a cigarette. 

“Nope,” Grantaire said dryly, following the others downstairs for the Mario Cart championship. 

\- - - - 

Tuesday approached swiftly, and Grantaire wasn’t sure if he was ready to attend the meeting. He had seen Enjolras the regular three times a day, but he hadn’t acknowledged him or even make eye contact with him. So maybe their relationship hadn’t progressed, but it still could. Grantaire heart rate still skyrocketed each time he saw the other man, but now a feeling of dread also clouded his head. Grantaire was at his locker grabbing his jacket when Bahorel magically appeared behind him.

“Ready for your first ABC meeting?” He asked, peeking into Grantaire’s locker. “You’re gonna love everyone.”

“Whatever you say Bahorel,” Grantaire said with mock-enthusiasm, slamming his locker shut in one crisp crash. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.” He mostly said that last part for himself. 

Bahorel entered the room first, greeted by a few shouts and even more laughter. “Guys, guys!” Bahorel said with raised arms, shushing the rowdy bunch, “I bring to you a new member!” 

The crowd began to bark out questions, many standing up to get a better view behind the tall man. “Fresh meat, huh?” One rather scrawny kid asked, adjusting his glasses to perch just right on his freckled nose. He shifted his weight, leaning up against his cane to face Bahorel. “Why didn’t you tell me you were bringing a friend? I would have prepared!” 

“That’s Joly,” Bahorel said with a smile, as if he was letting Grantaire in on some big secret. “Everyone, this is Grantaire!”

Grantaire shuffled in, eyes wide and just a bit frightened. “I can introduce myself, you know,” he said dryly. This got him several good laughs from the mismatched assortment of kids before him. “You guys can try to tell me your names but I probably won’t remember them.”

“Great! I’m Courfeyrac,” a new boy said, throwing a hand out for him to shake. Grantaire hesitantly took the hand as he glanced over Courfeyrac. He looked like the 90’s and a pride parade had a baby, fully decked out in bright colors and acid washed jeans. Another boy behind him pulled him away from Grantaire, sending him an apologetic look.

“Don’t mind him, he gets excited. Nice to meet you, I’m Combeferre, not to be confused with Courfeyrac, we are quite different.” He was taller, with a dark complexion and gaudy glasses. He seemed much more composed than Courfeyrac. 

“Wait, we should play a name game!” Courfeyrac suggested, looking rather pleased with himself. None of the group had enough heart to say no, instead they let Courfeyrac rearrange them into a circle with Grantaire closing the chain. “Okay, now everyone introduce yourself! Grantaire can go last.”

“Guess that means I start,” a husky voice said, coming from Grantaire’s left. He turned to see a Hispanic girl with vibrantly dyed hair smiling at him. She had violet lipstick on and was decked out in a mesh of geek and rocker-chick. “The name’s Musichetta, I’ve been in the ABC for one year, and I can make a mean cup of Joe. I can also help out on any calculus homework you have.” 

Joly was standing next to her, gripping to her arm for support. “Bahorel already told you I’m Joly, and I need a cane because of my scoliosis. I’ve been in the ABC for quite some, maybe… three years? Ask me any medical inquiry and I’ll be happy to help.”

Another man was next in line, with a clean shaven head and a bruised lip. “Hiya Grantaire, I’ Bossuet. Everybody says I’m bad luck, but don’t trust them. I’m a normal guy, I swear.” His plea was interrupted by many members of the ABC objecting and trying to tell undisputable evidence about his supposed “bad-luck.” “Shush! Jehan’s next you guys!” 

Grantaire could tell Jehan was a character by the look of him. Braided ginger hair with something sparkly woven into it was the first warning sign. The next warning sign was the nail polish, which Grantaire normally wouldn’t have a problem with except that neon was just so ugly. “I’m Jehan, I’m a sophomore, and gender is a social construct. Fuck gender norms I guess. Wait, am I allowed to cuss?” 

Many exasperated sighs followed. “You guys, we can cuss. In fact, Grantaire cusses more than, like, anyone else I know. Except maybe Musichetta,” Bahorel amended, looking pleased with himself. Grantaire had already forgotten who Musichetta was, but was quickly reminded when the girl next to him flipped Bahorel off sarcastically.

“Okay, moving on,” a jittery boy said meekly, somehow still drawing everyone’s attention. The boy looked to be about a sophomore, possibly a junior, but tall, with thin limbs and an insane amount of freckles. “I’m Marius and this is my first year in the ABC. I… don’t really do much.” Grantaire was hit with the terrifying realization that this was the kid Eponine had a crush on. 

“He’s a romantic,” Combeferre added, pushing up his glasses as he did so. “That’s really all you need to know.

They were interrupted by the swinging open of the door, revealing a ragged looking Enjolras. “Sorry I’m late you all, I—what’s going on?” 

Jehan smiled absentmindedly. “We’re introducing ourselves to Grantaire, care to join?”

He heaved out a sigh of relief. “Oh, yeah, sure,” Enjolras squeezed himself into the circle, unphased by Grantaire’s presence. Grantaire, on the other hand, had forgotten how to breathe. “Um, you know me, I think. I started the ABC, and I’m trying to make the school board reform some of their old, outdated biased rules. And that’s why we’re all here.”   
Grantaire hadn’t known that Enjolras could become more attractive, but when he began to speak passionately about reform Grantaire felt he could swoon. 

“Nice. So I’m Feuilly, resident good vibes man an jokester.” Grantaire hadn’t noticed the other man, having been blinded by Enjolras. Feuilly seemed good natured, average build and frizzy red hair. He gave Grantaire a friendly nod, expressing that it was now his turn to introduce himself.

“I’m Grantaire, I’m a senior, and… I guess I’m your classic art ho, except just a little gayer. Also just a bit of an underachiever. And I’m here because of Enjolras and Bahorel, who stole my wallet--”

“That is not what happened!” Enjolras tried to intercede, but Grantaire just shot him a vile smirk and continued talking.

“I’m not a big believer in all of this ‘we can change the world’ bullshit but I said I’d be here and I keep my word. And it’s nice to meet all of you, whose names I am struggling to recall.” 

Enjolras was real eager to break up the circle. “Now that that’s over,” he spoke, his voice rather grim, “we can get back to our usual agenda. We received a letter back from the school board, they say we still can’t instigate a safe sex class in Health classrooms, and we certainly can’t have anything non-hetero added to the nonexistent safe-sex talk.” 

This announcement was met with several boos and several more “of course they would say that”s. Grantaire couldn’t help but laugh.

“You guys really think the most conservative schoolboard in the state is going to teach something other than abstinence? You guys are hopeless.” Grantaire sat back, pleased with himself until he saw the expression Enjolras was sending his way. It was a mixture of righteous anger and utter shock, as though Grantaire had just disrespected him in the highest way possible. “Hey, I’m just saying,” he amended, “you’d get more done taking small steps. We can’t jump straight into preventing AIDS and shit.”

This hadn’t helped much. Enjolras still looked offended, and everyone looked a little worried for Grantaire. “Well at least we tried,” he spat, standing tall in front of Grantaire. “Simply sitting back and saying everything is hopeless is quite possibly helping their case. Do you think I care if some sarcastic asshole thinks I’m being ridiculous for promoting change? These are issues that need to be fixed now, not later. We don’t expect this fight to be easy, but we surely won’t give up with one measly ‘no’ from the schoolboard.”

Grantaire wasn’t sure whether to be frightened or turned on. Enjolras was the closest he’d ever been to Grantaire, close enough that Grantaire could feel his heavy breathing on his face. Any passion to argue was dissolved by the realization that when Enjolras spoke like this, Grantaire felt like he could really believe in it. He could really believe in Enjolras. “Yeah, let me know when that method works out,” he finally managed, nonchalantly leaning back in his chair. It was a challenge, Enjolras could tell, and he was tempted to take the bait.

“So, I was thinking our next course of action is to get the student body involved. Make some posters, print some pamphlets, and educate them ourselves,” Combeferre interrupted conveniently. Enjolras’ gaze lingered on Grantaire for a second before he pulled himself away to face the rest of Les Amis. 

“Divide and conquer,” he said, taking over from Combeferre. “Everybody can have a focus. We’ll need info about STD’s, teen pregnancies, birth control, etc.”

Courfeyrac was prepared, hauling a large stack of colored construction paper out of his bag with a grin. “I figured it would come to this,” he explained, handing a sharpie to each person. 

People began to crowd around tables. Joly, Bossuet and Musichetta took teen pregnancies. Feuilly and Courfeyrac volunteered for condoms. Jehan, Bahorel and Combeferre began researching common STDs, and Enjolras, Marius, and Grantaire were left with birth control.

“How’d I get stuck with you?” Enjolras asks. It sounds like he may have been trying to make a joke, but clearly it came out wrong and now poor innocent Marius was caught between an invigorated social justice warrior and a completely smitten asshole. He looks quite terrified.

“Okay, so birth control is available at most drug stores, right?” Marius begins, scoping out their bright yellow paper. Enjolras and Grantaire didn’t hear him, however. They were too busy firing off lousy quips at each other. 

“Well, looks like you’ve got me making posters, huh Apollo?” Grantaire said almost cheekily. He was mapping out a drawing of a pill bottle, labeling descriptions found off of his google search.

Enjolras, just slightly flustered, fumbled with marker he was holding. “Where the hell did you get ‘Apollo’ from?” He asked with resentment. His cheeks were flushed, brow furrowed as he fought back his reddening face.

“What, you don’t like it?” Grantaire asked instead of answering his question. The question is followed by a shit eating grin and waggling eyebrows. 

“Um, guys,” Marius tries again, moving to sit in-between them. “Let’s just work on the posters, okay?” 

Somehow Grantaire made it through the whole meeting without riling Enjolras up enough to cause a scene. Instead, Enjolras just seemed extremely irritated. Despite his sour mood, Enjolras was able to remain kind and civil to Grantaire (to an extent). 

On the walk out to his car, Grantaire was stopped by Bahorel, who was eager to hear how he got on with Enjolras. “So, what’d you think?” He asked. He looked out of breath, almost as though he had ran to catch Grantaire. His hair was tussled and his posture clearly reflected his exhaustion. 

“Of the meeting or Enjolras?” The conversation was difficult to decipher. If Bahorel was asking about the club overall, then that was easy. The people were friendly and funny, nothing wrong with that. Enjolras, on the other hand… well, the crush was still there, no doubt, but now it was coupled with Grantaire’s self-destructive tendencies. 

“Both I guess?” Bahorel replied, now walking in step with Grantaire. He was eager for a response, as none of his friends had ever accepted his invite to their club before. 

Grantaire sighed. “The club was fine,” he began, tucking his rambunctious curls behind his ears. “I like the people, I just don’t know if I can trust myself to be around Enjolras. He really doesn’t like me.”

Bahorel’s face tensed up, clearly troubled by this admission. “Are you behaving like an asshole because you’re nervous?” 

Grantaire allowed for a shallow nod, confirming Bahorel’s suspicions. “It’s like, if I get the slightest feeling this guy I admire could become my friend, something inside of me tells me that’s ridiculous and I need to give up. It’s the opposite of a defense mechanism, I guess.” 

Bahorel, unsure of how to respond to that, resolved his inner turmoil by patting Grantaire on the back. “Well, if you can’t get along with Enjolras at least get to know everyone else. They’re great people.” With that, he was off, waving back at Grantaire as he flipped through his keys. “See you tomorrow, R!”


	3. Step 3: Talk on the Phone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bonding ensues

Grantaire had done a lot of thinking. He wasn’t ready to try and suffocate his crush on Enjolras, repression would only make their relationship worse. Instead, he would keep his feelings to himself but try and maintain a good relationship with the other boy. He didn’t even know if he was gay or not—for all Grantaire knew, Enjolras could be straight. That would be tragic, but it was a definite possibility. He had finally resolved on apologizing to Enjolras when his phone pinged, alerting him of a call.

The flashing screen read “Enjolras”, and for a split second Grantaire was ready to lunge into panic mode. Should he apologize now? He’d yet to think out what he would say. Why was Enjolras calling him at 11:30 at night? Was it a butt dial? He had only really spoken with this guy a handful of times, he certainly wasn’t just calling him to chat. “Just answer you idiot,” he groaned, squinting as he accepted the call. “Hello?”

“Hi Grantaire, um,” the voice on the other side of the line began. He sounded nervous and a bit tired, his voice rough and quiet. “I just wanted to apologize for my behavior this afternoon. I should have been more receptive to your opinions, even if I still don’t agree with them. I just wanted to make sure I didn’t scare you off.”

Grantaire’s heart was beating a mile a minute. The conversation felt intimate for some strange reason, and Grantaire was eternally grateful Enjolras couldn’t see the blush rising on his face. Talking to your crush will do funny things to you. 

“No, it’s fine, I was actually going to apologize to you. I was an asshole, I guess I was nervous. Don’t worry about it dude, most people respond negatively to my shittiness.” He settled back on his bed, hand pulling at his hair to help calm his nerves. He really wasn’t prepared to talk to Enjolras.

A scoff came from the other end of the phone. “You weren’t shitty, Grantaire, you were just a normal person expressing their opinion. You have a right to that, you know.” Great. Now Enjolras was defending Grantaire from himself. 

“Yeah, sure, whatever makes you happy Apollo,” he mumbled, letting out a snarky laugh. Now that Enjolras had apologized, hopefully he would end the conversation so that Grantaire could resume breathing normally. He found he was holding his breath far more often than normal when speaking to his dream guy.

Enjolras grumbled at him, struggling to find something to say. “Seriously Grantaire, why are you calling me that? Am I missing something?” 

Grantaire hesitated, listening to Enjolras’ breathing while he tried to come up with an excuse. How obvious would it be if Grantaire straight up told him it was because he looked like a god? Probably much too obvious, that wasn’t the sort of thing that could be averted with a simple ‘no homo’. Honesty would get him nowhere, but where would lying get him? Not much farther.

“So I forgot to ask, when’s the next meeting?” He asked instead, relieved he came up with that aversion as quickly as he did. That wasn’t to suspicious, right?

“You’re just gonna ignore my question?” Enjolras asked, irked. “Whatever. We meet after school most Tuesdays and Thursdays, but because it’s a fairly small group we’ll have mini meetings during lunch and stuff. They’re not official, so you don’t need to be there, but you’re welcome to sit with us. We’re usually in the back corner of the cafeteria, by the kitchen.”

Grantaire knew exactly where he was talking about. It wasn’t rare for him to gaze longingly at Enjolras’ radiant face from across the cafeteria while Eponine bitched about some substitute teacher who wouldn’t let them be on their phones. And luckily for him, Enjolras was always in the same spot. He and Eponine didn’t have enough social standing to have a table to themselves, so most lunches it was a struggle to find empty seats. They’d yet to resort to eating on the floor in the lobby with the freshman, and hopefully they’d never have to. Nevertheless, Grantaire was always distracted by Enjolras at least once each lunch period, every day, for the past four years. Only a little bit pathetic. 

“Can my friend Eponine sit with us if she wanted to?” He asked, hoping the quake in his voice didn’t give anything away about his previous knowledge. 

“Well duh, don’t you remember? Everyone is welcome, everyone is accepted. We’re not gonna tell your friend she can’t sit at our lunch table, we’re not elementary school bullies.” It almost seemed like Enjolras was being playful with that last comment, which was… sweet. Grantaire’s palms were beginning to sweat though, and his heart rate had yet to stabilize. If he ever wanted to calm down enough to get to sleep, he’d have to finish this phone call real soon. The only issue was, he didn’t want it to end. Who knew when his next chance to chat with Apollo himself would be. 

“Cool. Thanks for inviting me, I guess,” he said as he stifled a yawn. He’d only been on the phone with Enjolras a mere three minutes, but he still had to finish up the math homework—math. They had math together! Grantaire silently thanked the heavens for another topic of conversation to keep the call going. “Say, did we get homework today in math?” He asked, despite knowing the answer. 

Enjolras let out a scandalized sounding gasp. “You haven’t done it yet? It’s 11:35! At night!” Grantaire did his best to hold back his laughter. “I can’t believe you’d wait so late to do it,” he admonished, sounding genuinely disappointed. “Seriously Grantaire, you’d better start that!”

What should have been a good reason to end the chat developed into a half tired rant between the two of them about what they hated the most about their math teacher. Enjolras despised the Trump/Pence coffee mug she used, and Grantaire hated how she picked on the students who were clearly having a tough time. Somehow, the conversation lasted another fifteen minutes before Enjolras was yawning and telling him he should probably work on his homework before he fell asleep. Grantaire agreed, saying his heavy eyelids were threatening to put him under, although in reality his adrenaline was through the roof. They finally hung up, and Grantaire felt like he was dreaming. What had begun as an awful day and an awful relationship with Enjolras ended in a 20 minute phone call full of bonding, ranting, and laughing. That, and the amplification of an already bad crush. Grantaire made sure he finished his math homework and then got ready for bed, but his excitement kept him up well past 1 am.

When his alarm went off the next morning, he was exhausted, but elevated. Sure, there were bags under his eyes, but he was going to eat lunch with Enjolras later that day! A week ago Grantaire never would have fathomed that was a possibility, but thanks to his shitty shoelaces tripping him that fateful Friday afternoon he was actually interacting with Enjolras! The world works in mysterious ways indeed. 

When he pulled into Eponine’s driveway to pick her up, he realized he was going to have to tell her about the developments with Enjolras, as well as their new location at lunch. The front door opened and he could see her figure walking towards him. She was wearing a dark grey t-shirt dress, fishnets, and black ankle boots. When she got closer, he noted the deep violet lipstick and smokey eye. 

“Looking edgy today, Ep,” he told her when she was seated in the passenger’s seat. 

“Yeah, and you’re looking for an ass whoopin,” she said sarcastically, baring her teeth in a fake grin. She settled back in the seat and picked at her nails, which—surprise!—were painted black. Grantaire wondered if she was going through a mood. There were days when she’d dress in aesthetics, all light-wash jeans and soft light clothes, and then the next day she’d resemble a punk rock goth. She rocked either look, but Grantaire had never met someone with such diverse taste in style. “So, anything of value to tell me?”

Eponine asked him this every morning, and everyday he’d come up with a bizarre, clearly fake story to tell her. Today was different, though. “Actually, there has been a development.”

“Oh?” She asked, intrigued. Grantaire took a deep breath, steadied himself, and began.

“Enjolras called me last night to apologize, then we talked for like, twenty minutes about random shit. And it was strangely nice, he was nice… also, he invited us to sit with him at lunch.” Grantaire kept his voice as stable as it would get. Eponine was processing it all.

“Did he invite us to sit with him or just you?” She inquired, as if solving a complicated puzzle.

“Just me, but when I asked he said you’d be welcome to sit with everyone.”

Eponine cracked into a smile. “Shit, he likes you R!” She announced, clapping her hands together joyously. “My little baby, all grown up, finally going after his first boyfriend!” 

Grantaire bristled, clearly anxious. “I wouldn’t say that, but he doesn’t dislike me.”

“Come on R, he likes you!” She said, exasperated. “First you lose your wallet, and instead of asking Bahorel to return it to you, who already knows you, he decides to make it more complicated by returning it himself! He easily could have dropped it off in your mailbox with no confrontation.”

Grantaire scoffed, “Come on Ep, that’s not too out of the way to assume he likes me.”

“Don’t interrupt,” Eponine says, almost scarily. “Then after returning said wallet, he finds a reason to invite you to his club, probably to impress you with his good morals. Then, after realizing he probably made a bad first impression, he calls you to apologize because he doesn’t want you to dislike him. Once he clears that up, he invites you to each lunch with him. He likes you!”

“Or he’s just a nice guy. Besides, I’m not even sure if he’s into guys, or into anyone!” These are lousy excuses, he knows this. He knows very few straight guys who are so involved in LGBT+ rights.

Eponine exhales slowly, giving Grantaire the stink eye. “Okay, how’s this sound: I ask around, see if he’s gay. If he is, you ask him on a date!” 

“Hold on!” Grantaire says, almost taking his eyes off the road to glare at Eponine. “I’ve only been talking to him since Friday, that’s not even a week of knowing him and you want me to ask him out?”

“Technically you’ve known him for four years,” she corrects coolly, smirking at his pained face. “Fine, how about you ask him out in, I don’t know, a month? If things are still going good. Assuming he doesn’t ask you out by then. Can you handle that?”

“I don’t want to be too hopeful, expecting something to happen will just make it worse when nothing happens,” he explains, pulling into the school parking lot cautiously. “Look, I’ll keep you filled in and such, but could you not get my hopes up?”

Eponine deflates a little, her cheer significantly cut back. “Fine R, I’ll just get to say I told you so in the end,” she says finally, glancing in the mirror before stepping out of the car.

“Oh, and by the way Ep?” Grantaire adds, remembering that he left out something important.

“Yeah?” She asks, only half-listening to him.

“I’m pretty sure Marius sits with Enjolras at lunch, so… yeah, just a warning.”

Eponine gawked at him, her jaw practically hitting the ground. “You couldn’t have mentioned that earlier? I could have changed into something less edgy!”

“So you admit you’re edgy,” Grantaire said with a shit eating grin, locking his car and heading towards the school. “See you at lunch, edge lord. Try not to scare Marius away, he’s a gentle creature.”

Eponine looked pissed, but in an annoyed, friendly way. She rolled her eyes and marched away at an alarming pace, no doubt to lessen the severity of her look before school began.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking around! I meant to get this done earlier, sorry it took a bit. Let me know what you think!


	4. Step 4: casually disclose your sexual orientation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A spontaneous Walmart run with Enjolras. Are they... friends??

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry it's been so long since I've updated! I promise I haven't forgotten about this, I've just been busy.

On his way to first period, Grantaire had his first daily encounter with Enjolras, when he’d pass him in the hall. For the previous year, the encounter had consisted of Grantaire sneaking a quick glance at Enjolras and the other boy not even noticing Grantaire existed. That day, Enjolras locked eyes with Grantaire and smiled, throwing out a small wave as they passed. Grantaire was shaken.

A similar thing happened in third period math. Enjolras was already seated when Grantaire entered, and he gave him a polite nod. Grantaire recognized some of the kids sitting next to him now: Combeferre was to his right, sorting out his binder. Courfeyrac was right next to him, smiling at Combeferre passionately. Combeferre also gave a polite nod, and Courfeyrac got really excited upon spotting Grantaire. “Have you always been in this class R?” He asked with an air of caution as he glanced around the classroom.

“Yeah, but I always sit in the back,” he explained, nodding towards Montparnasse and Claquesous. They were too busy scrawling answers out on their uncompleted homework to notice the acknowledgement. 

“Neat!” Courfeyrac grinned, settling down in his seat. “Happy learning!” 

The day already felt unreal, and before he knew it Grantaire was shimmying through the crowded cafeteria to make it to Enjolras’ table. His breath hitched when he saw the group: Musichetta was crowding over Joly, who had attempted to steal Bossuet’s chocolate milk, which had then spilled on Bossuet. Combeferre was listening politely to Courfeyrac, who was ranting excitedly about something that Feuilly seemed to disagree with. Jehan was just getting seated next to them, and the rest of the seats were empty. Including a seat next to Enjolras.

With a final burst of confidence, he marched over to their table and set his tray down next to Enjolras. “Hey guys,” he said, interrupting all previous conversations. Most of them looked thrilled to see someone new join their bunch.

A chorus of “heys” echoed back at him, but they didn’t help to slow his rapid heart rate. Enjolras hadn’t said anything yet, he was busy chowing down an organic looking peanut butter and jelly. 

“I take it you got your math homework done?” Enjolras asked him after an awkward minute of sitting and observing the crazy chatter of the ABC. 

Grantaire grinned sheepishly, looking down at his lunch. “Course I did, Apollo. Wouldn’t want to get in trouble.” 

Rather than bristle at the nickname, Enjolras didn’t react much. If Grantaire had been paying better attention he may have noticed the light blush that brushed his cheeks.  
Eponine slammed her tray next to Grantaire, startling him. “Hey R,” she greeted as she sat next to him, averting her eyes from the club. She seemed a little nervous, which was strange. It was always strange to see Eponine self-conscious.

“I’m gonna introduce you to everyone,” he decided quickly, turning to face the group before Eponine could argue. “Attention members of the ABC!” Grantaire called, jokingly tapping his plastic knife against his milk carton. “Your attention please! This is my lovely friend Eponine who has graced us with her presence today. Please make her feel welcome!”   
She was fighting back a smile, he could tell, as each person introduced themselves. Grantaire noticed her stiffen when Marius sat down across from her, along with a pretty blonde girl decked out in a floral dress. The girl was short and had round, red cheeks and a jovial smile. She seemed to bat her eyelashes at Marius a tad too much for Eponine’s liking.   
“Oh! Who are you all?” She asked when she noticed Grantaire and Eponine sitting across from her. It wasn't accusatory, but kind and excited. 

“I’m Grantaire,” he said as he stuck out a hand, “I decided to hang out with these fellas after Enjolras stole my wallet.”

Enjolras, clearly mortified at the statement, whipped his head around aggressively. “You have to stop saying that Grantaire!” He quipped, then directed his attention to the girl. “I swear I did not steal his wallet.”

“Don’t get your panties in a twist, Apollo,” Grantaire teased, making the girl laugh. She accepted his handshake. Her hands were warm, soft, and plump, yet her shake was surprisingly firm. 

“I’m Cosette, nice to meet you,” she said sweetly, showing off her pearly whites. “You’re Eponine, aren’t you?” She asked, as if trying to remember something faint. “I think we went to elementary school together.”

“Yes, that’s me,” Eponine said with a drab tone, not quite wanting to meet Cosette’s eyes.

“You’re so pretty! You’ve got to show me how you did you eyeshadow, it looks great!” Cosette eagerly sat forward, continuing to pepper Eponine with compliments. 

Grantaire turned to look at Marius, who was watching Cosette with a sort of adoration. Wanting to avoid any awkward conversations, Grantaire shifted his head back towards his left, where Enjolras sat. “So, the school hasn’t taken the posters down yet,” Grantaire offers, smiling towards a familiar looking birth control poster hanging on the wall closest to them. “That’s pretty impressive, I figured they’d take them down as soon as we put them up.”

Enjolras stared at him for a minute, as if trying to decipher what Grantaire was saying to see if it could be an insult. “Yeah, that’s the hope,” he said after a few seconds, then went to take another bite of his sandwich. 

“Have you done posters like these before?” Grantaire asked, doing his best to get a conversation going.

“Yeah,” Enjolras mumbled, mouth still half full of food. “We put up statistics about police brutality against minorities, death tolls and such, but the school took it down the day we put them up. When we came to school the day after we put them up, all of the posters were in the garbage. They didn’t even recycle them!” He clearly seems angered by this memory, but quickly calmed himself. “I’m happy our posters are still up, but I think they’ll probably make us take them down within the week. At least the ones about condoms and birth control, but they may let us keep the AID ones up.”

Grantaire nods, mulling it over. “So what you’re saying is if I hear them call you down to the office, chances are we’re getting in trouble for our sexy posters,” Grantaire said cheekily, enjoying the way Enjolras squirmed when he said ‘sexy’. 

“Something like that,” Enjolras said with a deadpan tone of voice.

The rest of lunch was nice. They only got into a couple of quarrels, and Grantaire felt like he was really connecting with Enjolras. It was also nice to get to talk to so many different people. Grantaire loved Eponine, but sometimes their conversations got a bit dull. Courfeyrac was certainly a character, and Grantaire had a sneaking suspicion he liked Combeferre, who definitely had a soft spot for the other boy. He had also noticed Eponine getting along well with Musichetta, which made him happy. It was good to know she wasn’t completely miserable sitting across from Marius and Cosette the entire time. 

Grantaire finished up the school day feeling satisfied and just a bit giddy knowing he’d get to talk to Enjolras the next day.

\- - - - - 

Grantaire became a regular attendee, never missing a meeting and offering up advice. Sure, his opinions were sometimes cynical, but he was there and he was trying. What more could you ask for? One particular meeting, about a month after Grantaire had officially joined the group, Feuilly was particularly excited. His face was flushed red and he looked as though he could hardly contain his excitement. As soon as Enjolras adjourned their meeting, he leapt up on a table and called for everyone’s attention. 

“Important announcement,” he boomed, cupping his hands around his mouth in an over-exaggerated manner. “Next Saturday, exactly a week and a day from now, I will be holding a birthday bash extravaganza a mi casa, and you’re all required to attend.” Combeferre raised an eyebrow, holding back a faint smile as Feuilly continued. “No excuses people! I expect to see each and every one of you there. Saturday, starting at five pm, you hear me?” 

Feuilly lunged off of the table, proceeding to hand out the lousiest invitation Grantaire had ever seen. It was printed on normal, white paper, a little bit off center with some clip art and others graphics covered by water marks. The center of the page said “be there or be square” in bold, lower case font, and beneath it listed the time and place. It was printed in black and white, and each invitation had been cut out jaggedly. “Don’t lose these,” he warned, waving one around before entrusting it to Musichetta, “each invitation is one of a kind.”   
Bahorel snorted, unable to keep his composure. “I’ll protect it with my life,” he promised once he received his. Feuilly nodded seriously, then gave the last invitation to Grantaire.   
“You’d better be there R,” he said, almost threateningly. “I’ll track you down if you don’t show up.”

“Point taken,” he relied, matching Feuilly’s dead serious tone. He was a little worried internally, because he was relatively new to the group and didn’t want to intrude on something as personal as a birthday party. He pushed his concern away, however, and began to pack up his things since the meeting was over.

“Hey Grantaire?” Enjolras asked from behind him, startling him. Grantaire quickly composed himself, trying not to look like he had nearly shit his pants. He assumed freaked out wasn’t the right approach when it came to talking to your crush. 

“Mmhm?” He asked, voice just a tad bit strained. 

Enjolras smiled nervously, taking a steady breath before speaking. “Um, I wanted to thank you for the poster designs, these are seriously so awesome. You’re great,” he said a little frantically. 

Grantaire felt himself smiling but was completely unsure of what to say back. ‘Thanks Enjolras, you’re great to, did I mention I’d like to make out with you?’ wasn’t the greatest thing to pop into his head, so he kept his mouth shut and gave a polite nod. “T-thanks,” he finally choked out, “no problem.” 

“Um, so I should probably get going, see you tomorrow,” Enjolras said awkwardly before meandering away. He looked back tentatively, then quickly swiveled his head around when he saw Grantaire was still looking at him. 

The next morning, once Grantaire pulled up to Eponine’s house, she ran out to greet him with a broad smile on her face. “I’ve got news Grantaire!” She declared, slamming the car door shut behind her.

“Geez, be easy on my car will you?” Grantaire said with indignation, clearly annoyed. “What news do you have, Ep?” She opened her mouth to speak, then burst into a fit of giggles. “Goodness Ep, just tell me already!”

She calmed herself, then spoke. “I was talking to Musichetta last night, and she confirmed that Enjolras is not only gay, but single. How’s that for news?” 

That was news. Not all that important, because it wasn’t as though Enjolras would ever be into him, but it was news. “Wow, okay, good to know,” he murmured, doing his best to keep the car steady. 

“So?” Eponine asked, clearly not getting that Grantaire wanted that to be the end of that conversation.

“What?” He asked, keeping his eyes trained on the wheel so Eponine couldn’t see how nervous he was.

“You said you’d ask him out if I found out he was gay!” She said matter-of-factly, as if it were the most obvious thing.

Grantaire scoffed. “I think I’d remember if I agreed to something as ludicrous as that,” he remarked, gripping the steering wheel much harsher than he needed to. Thankfully no blush had creeped up on his face yet, but he could feel the grimace taint his lips. 

Eponine sighed in exasperation, rolling her eyes as she did. He could tell she was disappointed, but he wasn’t about to ask Enjolras out to make her feel better. “Whatever coward,” she said dully. 

When Grantaire passed Enjolras in the hall later that morning, he couldn’t shake what Eponine had said earlier. Each time he looked at Enjolras, his feelings came flooding back in and it was so draining. Enjolras’ smile was something to behold—even his small, thin lipped grins sent sparks through Grantaire’s heart. Grantaire wouldn’t deny his crush on Enjolras, after all he had known about it for a while. That was the part that made it sound so ludicrous to even consider asking Enjolras out. After crushing on him for four years, it felt unfair to cozy up to him. Enjolras didn’t share that same history or those same feelings. While Grantaire began their friendship head-over-heels in love, Enjolras began it open-minded and very much unaffected by Grantaire’s presence. Any attempt at seducing him felt like foul play. 

Walking into math later that day, Grantaire noticed that Combeferre was absent. The seat next to Enjolras was empty, and Montparnasse wasn’t a super appealing contender. “Hey, can I sit here today?” He asked, drawing Enjolras out of his daze.

“Oh yeah, of course Grantaire,” Enjolras answered, smiling. Grantaire felt just a bit faint.

“So… what are you getting for Feuilly? I have no idea what to get him.” Grantaire truly was at a loss. He still had time, but he’d feel a lot more comfortable with a game plan.  
Enjolras pondered for a second, scratching his head. “You know, I really haven’t been able to think of anything to get him. He likes gag gifts think?” Enjolras seemed just as lost as Grantaire when it came to finding a birthday gift for Feuilly.

Courfeyrac snorted. “You guys don’t know what to get for Feuilly yet? I got him a balloon animal kit, says he’s been wanting to learn. You guys should go shopping together before you run out of time.” 

“That’s reasonable,” Enjolras replied, still deep in though. “I guess I should try and go today, so I don’t end up rushing to find something last minute.”

“I can give you a ride,” Grantaire suggested, leaning in closer to Enjolras. Courfeyrac gave Grantaire a knowing smirk, which was a little terrifying. If Grantaire was interpreting it correctly that meant that Courfeyrac realized Grantaire was crushing on Enjolras, with could end badly. 

“Awesome--” Enjolras tried to say, but was instead cut off by the bell. The teacher marched to the front of the room and started to lecture, killing any attempt at further conversation with Enjolras. 

After seventh period, Grantaire texted Enjolras telling him to meet him in the lobby once he was ready to go. He also told Eponine what was going on, and she told him she’d just get a ride with Montparnasse. The lobby cleared out quickly, and Grantaire was left standing awkwardly against the marching band trophy case, near the music hallway. He spotted Enjolras walking down the opposite hallway and walked over to meet him.

“Thanks for giving me a ride Grantaire,” Enjolras said kindly, readjusting his backpack straps so that his bag didn’t droop so low. He clutched the straps in front, which made him look a tad bit like an elementary schooler. “So, where should we go gift shopping?”

“I figured Walmart,” Grantaire offered with a shrug. “There’s one not too far away.” Enjolras smiled and nodded again, and they began walking towards Grantaire’s car.

“She’s in the back of the lot, just about as far from the school as you can get. I got a shitty parking pass.”

Enjolras chuckled, glancing towards Grantaire. “At least you have a parking pass,” he countered keenly. "I couldn’t get one before they sold out, I was out of town at the time.” 

“What were doing, protesting at the capital?” Grantaire asked mockingly, turning to unlock the car. 

Enjolras shifted, looking a bit uncomfortable. “Well, yeah, I was,” he answered. Grantaire immediately regretted his teasing. Enjolras looked just a little pissed, which was still hot, but happy Enjolras was hotter.

“Um, what were you protesting?” He tried, doing his best to sound interested. Enjolras perked up, then began to explain some shitty legislation unjustly passed that he and a whole bunch of people went down to protest. Enjolras continued to talk about it nearly the whole ride over, finally finishing as they pulled into the lot.

“So did it change anything?” Grantaire asked, only half paying attention at that point.

Enjolras, already worked up, huffed out a bitter “no”. “But they can’t ignore us much longer. There’s another protest organized in a few weeks, we could go together.”

Grantaire swallowed, now caught up in the silence as they sat in the car in a deserted parking lot. “I don’t know if that’s my thing. I mean, I wouldn’t really fit in.”

Enjolras looked appalled, unbuckling to face Grantaire directly. “That’s nonsense Grantaire, anyone can speak up for what’s right. Now come on, we’ve got to find gifts for Feuilly.”  
The store was pretty quiet for a Wednesday afternoon. Grantaire spotted a total of five different customers on their journey through the cards section. Enjolras began flipping through the birthday cards, but Grantaire went right towards the kids section. “What do you think of this?” He asked, holding up a card with Elmo decked out in some cowboy gear addressed to a ‘grandson’. Enjolras looked confused for a second.

“Feuilly isn’t your—oh, it’s a joke, right?” He realized, letting out a soft puff of air. Not quite the reaction Grantaire wanted, but it would do. Enjolras found a card with a dog dressed up as a hot dog. Apparently that was Enjolras’ sense of humor; Grantaire would have to remember that. 

“We should hit the craft section,” Grantaire suggested, pointing further down the aisle to the glitter filled shelves. Enjolras, though reluctant, agreed. “Does he want a feather boa?” Grantaire asked, throwing one on his neck flamboyantly. It was bright pink and sparkly, and when Grantaire took it off there were pink sparkly feathers all over his t-shirt. “Shit!” he exclaimed. This time, Enjolras laughed. Not a small exhale, but a genuine laugh. 

“Serves you right,” he said once he calmed himself, picking the boa up off the floor and placing it back where Grantaire found it.

“What did I do?” Grantaire asked in confusion, stumbling to catch up with Enjolras. He had already begun walking to the technology section several aisles away. “Wait up Apollo!”  
In the end Enjolras found some headphones for Feuilly and Grantaire got him several different cake mixes. The parking lot was much more crowded than when they first arrived, and it was a struggle to find the car. “We were directly across from the pharmacy entrance, right?” Grantaire asked, trying to see over the tops of SUVs. 

“How should I know?” Enjolras asked, a tint of humor to his voice. “It’s not like it’s my car.”

“Wow, thanks a bunch smart elec. Real helpful,” Grantaire drawled sarcastically, flipping off the other boy casually. 

Enjolras laughed again—the second time that trip!—and finally pointed Grantaire in the right direction. “It’s over there, by the yellow convertible.” 

“That would have been helpful five minutes ago,” Grantaire said with mock harshness. The whole teasing mocking thing—was that flirting? Was he flirting with Enjolras, and was Enjolras flirting back? The thought was quickly wiped from his mind when he became preoccupied with unlocking the car and then maneuvering out of the crowded lot.   
“Where do you live?” Grantaire asked, eyes trained on his mirrors. Enjolras gave him the neighborhood, one Grantaire was thankfully familiar with, and he began the drive. They sat in a comfortable silence for a good three minutes before Enjolras spoke up.

“Can I ask you something?” Enjolras spoke tentatively, as though he had yet to make up his mind on whether he was actually going to speak. 

“Sure,” Grantaire answered nonchalantly. 

“Are you gay?” 

Grantaire flinched, shocked to hear the question. “Y-yeah,” he managed to get out. “Why?” 

“No reason,” Enjolras replied, almost too quickly. Grantaire eyed the taller boy suspiciously, but Enjolras had whipped his phone out to respond to a text. 

“Alright,” he sighed, frowning as he tried to decipher the mixed signals Enjolras was giving him. It’s not like it mattered, it wasn’t going to change anything if he found out Enjolras wanted to know his sexual orientation to blackmail him or to make out with him. Okay, the latter night make a difference, but that was completely out of the picture. 

“I turn in here, right?” Grantaire asked once he neared the neighborhood entrance. Enjolras gave him an affirming nod, and nothing more. The entire ride had been incredibly awkward since Enjolras asked him about his sexuality. Enjolras seemed stiff, his face trained towards the window for the entire ride. Grantaire didn’t know if he felt uncomfortable or embarrassed—it was difficult to tell when you couldn’t see his face—but the whole vibe made Grantaire uncomfortable as well. Maybe Enjolras wasn’t comfortable around gay people? But Eponine had assured him Enjolras was gay himself. Grantaire couldn’t fathom Enjolras dealt with some internalized homophobia, the very concept made him hold back a chuckle.   
“Turn here,” Enjolras said suddenly, shaking Grantaire out of his daze. He swung the wheel, probably a bit too violently, and made a wide turn. Thankfully no other cars were near him, so it was impossible to collide, but both boys seemed attentive. “Shit, sorry about that,” Grantaire said, frenzied. 

“No, it’s fine,” Enjolras replied, eyes wide with alarm. “I should have given you a heads up we were turning so soon.” 

Grantaire realized that he had stopped, and that they were just sitting there, in the middle of a small neighborhood street. “Guess I’d better resume the route,” Grantaire said with a hint of playfulness in his voice. Enjolras began to laugh, no doubt caught by the absurdity of the situation. Grantaire hadn’t noticed how contagious Enjolras’ laugh was—or maybe it was just because of the debilitating crush. Either way, Grantaire began to laugh as well as they slowly chugged down the street.

“This is my place,” Enjolras motioned, still coming down from the laughter. It was a modest home, a single story and a small yard. He could see a cat sitting in the window above the rosebushes.

He pulled into the driveway and parked the car. “I can help you with your stuff,” Grantaire offered before Enjolras had the chance to bid him goodbye. He looked like he was going to refuse, but clearly rethought it when he glanced at all of his school belongings plus his Walmart bag. 

“Okay,” Enjolras said, albeit tentatively. Grantaire flashed him a smile then hauled his backpack over his shoulder. “Lead the way, Apollo.”

Enjolras pulled a key out of his pocket and unlocked the door, opening it cautiously and peering inside. The cat Grantaire had seen in the window was now butting its head out the door and looking around with wide eyes. “Ugh,” Enjolras sighed, directing the cat back inside with his leg. “Be careful not to let him out,” He advised, backing in through the doorway and throwing his stuff on a nearby couch. Grantaire carefully guarded the doorway as he shuffled in, thwarting all the cat’s attempts to escape. “My parents aren’t home yet,” Enjolras added casually. He seemed to realize the underlying meaning of the sentence a moment later and blushed angrily, panic clouding his features. “Not—not like, I’m implying anything,” he said, waving his hands frantically.

“Dude, it’s fine. You don’t need to start freaking out because you know I’m gay.” Grantaire put the bag down with Enjolras’ other things, then squatted to pet the cat, who was rubbing up against his legs affectionately. 

“No, I don’t have an issue with that,” Enjolras corrected quickly, taking to pacing. “I’m gay too—I think that’s why I got a little jumpy. People always think that if there are two gay guys that know each other, they have to be interested in each other, which is totally stupid. They don’t pair up every single straight guy with every single straight girl, but when there happen to be two gay people they’re ‘perfect for each other!’ Not to say that I don’t find you attractive or anything, I mean, um, never mind.” 

Grantaire did his best to process what Enjolras had just spat out in his half-anxiety ridden rant, unsure of if he should comment on what Enjolras had said. He found Grantaire attractive? But then again, he was arguing that just because two people are gay doesn’t mean they’re meant to be. So they weren’t meant to be? “What’s your cat’s name?” He asked instead, looking back at the cat rubbing up against him. It was grey with short fur, a little chunky, with white paws and dull green eyes.

“Oh, that’s Turnip. I didn’t name him, my mom did. We’ve had him for six years, he’s kind of spoiled.” Enjolras went soft when he began to speak about Turnip, who had flopped over on his back to let Grantaire pet his belly. Turnip purred and rubbed his head against Grantaire’s leg some more, making Grantaire chuckle. 

“I should probably get going, but it was nice to meet you Turnip! See you tomorrow Apollo.” Grantaire got up and waved. Once he was in the safety of his own car and far away from Enjolras’ house, he exhaled slowly. Enjolras had called him attractive. He let that sink in, let the whole interaction sink in. Of course, a guy like Enjolras would care about more than appearances, Enjolras wouldn’t be shallow enough to like him based on appearance alone. Maybe it was nothing, maybe it was just a friendly compliment, but Enjolras had seemed embarrassed after he said it. Maybe…? No, Grantaire shouldn’t waste him time hoping only to be disappointed. It wouldn’t be the first time. 

When he got home, he decided to call Eponine. He had been debating it, because Eponine already thought Enjolras liked him since she found out Grantaire liked Enjolras. Although she was partially biased, he had to tell someone about what Enjolras had said, and he didn’t feel like telling anyone else about his crush. He considered calling Bahorel, but he wasn’t much of a gossiper, and certainly didn’t have much relationship advice. 

“So, how’d the date go?” Eponine asked as soon as she picked up, her voice heavy with sarcasm.

He partially regretted calling her. “First of all, it wasn’t a date. Second of all, Enjolras thinks I’m attractive.”

“What!? You waited until now to tell me that?” Eponine barked, sounding excited and outraged he hadn’t told her the minute it happened. 

“What, did you expect me to dial you up in the middle of my conversation with him and gush my feelings out to you?”

Eponine laughed, crisp and clear. “I mean, in a perfect world, yeah, I do expect that. Anyway, continue.”

Grantaire took a deep breath, then started reciting their afternoon. He began with how he made Enjolras laugh during their Walmart trip, then awkwardly brought up how Enjolras asked if he was gay, finally closing with the awkward ‘not that I don’t think you’re attractive’. Eponine was surprisingly silent while he told her everything that had happened, listening attentively to each word. “And then… I left.”

“So you didn’t tell him you thought he was attractive?” She asked stubbornly, clearly exasperated. Eponine always made this face, one where she raised an eyebrow and sneered at him in disbelief. Grantaire was pretty sure she was making that face. 

“I didn’t want to overstep boundaries,” he began, trying to explain the whole ‘just because two people are gay doesn’t mean they’ll be attracted to each other’ spiel Enjolras had given him. Eponine wasn’t buying any of it.

“I get you think Enjolras is a man of substance, I’m sure he is. But you’ve also got to remember he’s a hormonal teenager just like you. If he thinks you’re hot, that’s a pretty great start. Hell, he could even learn to cope with your shitty personality.” 

“Not funny, Ep,” Grantaire warned coldly. He was strewn out on his bed, phone in one hand with the other hand propping his head up.

She hummed quietly, clearly mulling things over. “Sorry R. I’m rooting for you, you know. No pressure.”

He stayed on the line for another half hour, exchanging words every few minutes with Eponine. He took solace in listening to her breathing. It was a reminder that he wasn’t alone. Soon, she had clearly drifted off to sleep so Grantaire hung up and worked on his math homework. Wouldn’t want to disappoint Apollo tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope to update soon! Please leave feedback! :-)


	5. Step 5: Tell His Friends About The Crush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some secrets are disclosed at Feuilly's birthday party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long chapter alert! Happy Late Valentine's Day!! Hope you enjoy!

Grantaire was full of insecurities the day of the party. Grantaire knew all too well what it felt like to awkwardly pace around a party with no one to talk to. It’s always dim, nerve-wracking, and a sorry reminder of just how alone one can be. It’s absolutely dreadful. Grantaire departed expecting to be excluded from tons of inside jokes and forgotten. Not that he thought everyone from Les Amis were jerks; they were all wonderful people, it was just that they all had closer friends than him. Grantaire would be their second or third choice when it came to socializing. 

When he found the address, there were already four cars parked on the side of the road. Grantaire joined them, parking behind a grey minivan and letting out a deep sigh. He glanced towards the home, a single story house will red shutters and blooming rosebushes. All of the lights were on, and the front door swung open to reveal a large mass of people stampeding out to see who had just pulled up. 

“Grantaire, you made it!” Feuilly exclaimed, holding his car door open for him and taking Grantaire’s hand to help him out. 

“Thank you for your assistance, kind sir,” Grantaire said with a mock bow, presenting the gift bag. Feuilly accepted it giddily before ushering everybody back into the house. 

“Okay, now that Grantaire’s here the festivities can begin,” Feuilly announced. The room quickly silenced, people turning away from their conversations to give their full attention to Feuilly. Grantaire spotted Enjolras holding a glass of water and watching him subtly. When Grantaire glanced back at Enjolras, he quickly shifted his head to watch Feuilly. He looked tense, which was ironic seeing as this was the most casual Grantaire had ever seen Enjolras dress. He was wearing a snug t-shirt that looked like it was from some sort of rally or protest, along with light grey sweatpants and fluffy socks. Everybody had left their shoes with the door; everyone but Grantaire.

He realized his fault almost instantly, glancing around to make sure no one had noticed. The pile of shoes near the door was only a few yards away, but Grantaire didn’t want to leave in the middle of Feuilly’s speech. He was saying something about his birthday party in third grade, standing next to his pile of gifts. With little else to do, Grantaire found himself looking back at Enjolras. He looked good, as always, and a little less tense. There was a soft glow around his hair, which looked a lot fluffier than usual. It curled around his chin, golden and brilliant. His blue eyes were trained on Feuilly and a small smile graced his face. It was almost too much for Grantaire to bear.

“So I’m breaking etiquette and opening the gifts first. You all understand.” Feuilly bid them forward, and while everyone readjusted to sitting around Feuilly Grantaire yanked his shoes off and threw them in the pile of shoes. Having fixed his predicament, Grantaire walked over to join everyone else, sitting next to Bahorel. 

“I see you got your shoes off,” Bahorel commented, smirking at him. Grantaire raised his eyebrows in mock innocence, pointing to himself in confusion.

“Who, me? I think you have me mixed up with someone else, I always take my shoes off when I enter someone’s house!” Grantaire’s voice was laced with sarcasm.

Bahorel chortled, shaking his head. “Well, good thing you caught on, because mama Feuilly gets real upset if anyone messes up her carpets.”

Feuilly noted their conversation in the back and clapped his hands together loudly. “Excuse me!” He said, looking scandalized. “I just received the best balloon animal kit and you guys are ignoring it? What if you want me to make you a goose later? Fat chance that’ll happen,” Feuilly was holding back a grin as he scolded them, flaunting Courfeyrac’s gift.   
He systematically went through each gift, giving long spiels of appreciation with every new present. “Oh, you shouldn’t have!” He would cry out, lifting the gift up for everyone to see. He’d read each card carefully and respond to each sentence with a clever “thanks” or “I know”. Feuilly got a kick out of Grantaire’s card, refusing to call him anything else but Grandpa all night. After what seemed to be a good 45 minutes, Feuilly announced it was time for cake.

“After cake, the real party starts,” Feuilly added. It was a tight squeeze to get everyone in the kitchen, along with Feuilly’s mother and two younger sisters. An oversized sheet cake with bright yellow frosting rested in the center of the table, with what seemed to be a good thirty candles shoved around the border. “Happy b-day Feuilly” was written in the center in blue and white frosting, and frosted flowers were placed delicately around his name. Feuilly’s mother lit all of the candles and pulled out her video-camera, grinning in a very Feuilly-esque smile. 

“Are we gonna sing or what?” Courfeyrac asked, wrapping an arm around Feuilly’s shoulder. “1, 2, 3--” he counted off, motioning for everyone else to join in. It was more shouting than singing, and it sounded like Jehan was trying to harmonize with the chorus of voices. Feuilly was swaying with Courfeyrac and singing along, smiling broadly. The singing ceased and Feuilly leaned down to blow out the candles. It took him a few breaths to get them all out, but once every candle stopped burning everyone applauded. 

“Who wants ice cream with their cake?” Feuilly’s mom asked, already dishing out slices of cake at lightning speed. The cake was half chocolate and half vanilla, and pretty good. Grantaire, who hadn’t realized how hungry he’d become, devoured his slice as soon as he got it. 

“I’m glad you made it, ‘gramps’,” Enjolras said from behind him, catching him by surprise. It was strange to hear Enjolras tease him with the new nickname, yet at the same time it felt like immeasurable progress compared to his relationship with the other boy a few months ago. Well, lack of a relationship. 

Grantaire took a step back so he could stand next to Enjolras and swallowed his bite of cake quickly. “Of course I’m here, did you think I wouldn’t come? I spent seventeen bucks on cake mix!” 

Enjolras chuckled, clearly reminiscing. He cleared his throat and lowered his eyes. He looked unsure for a moment, then opened his mouth to speak. “I just want to make sure you know you’re welcome. Just because you’re newer to the group doesn’t make you less important than someone I’ve known since sixth grade. It didn’t seem like you knew that.”

“Oh,” Grantaire responded quietly. He wasn’t quite sure what to say back to Enjolras, but he certainly felt a strong surge of emotion threaten to overtake him. “Thanks Apollo,” he managed to say, fitting as much genuine appreciation as he could in the short sentiment. Enjolras smiled back at him, eyes trained on him for several strange seconds. It wasn’t awkward, it was more contemplative. Then Enjolras began to laugh at him, lifting a hand to point at his face.

“Y-you’ve got some cake on your face,” he explained to a bewildered Grantaire, who watched Enjolras continue to laugh at him. 

He smiled back and quickly wiped a smear of chocolate off of his face. “Is it gone?” He asked, wiping his palm off on a bright birthday napkin. Enjolras nodded, still calming down from his laughing fit. “Couldn’t have told me any sooner, huh?” he asked, setting his empty plate in the trash can. Their conversation was interrupted by Feuilly, who was announcing the next stage of the party.

“Game time,” Feuilly began to explain, as if speaking to young children, “is very sacred at my birthday parties. This means board games, of course, as a reminder of elementary school. Then we move onto truth or dare, a classic. The epitome of middle school. And for high school, you ask? Musical chairs, duh. I’m also open to suggestions, but remember we also have several episodes of the ‘Boss Baby’ show on Netflix we have to binge. So, our first game…. Candy Land!” Feuilly pulled the box out from behind him and waved it around at them. “Now there are only four game pieces, so either we play in teams or find other game pieces to use. Y’all can chose which we do.”

Grantaire had never seen a group of high schoolers so excited to play Candy Land, but to be honest it was a pretty fun idea. He supposed he was so used to stranger’s parties, with loud music and drinks, which always made him uncomfortable and lonely. This was a true birthday party. 

They settled on teams, and everyone was quick to make alliances. “I call being on the birthday-boy’s team!” Grantaire announced, linking arms with Feuilly. 

“We should be on the same team too,” Enjolras said quickly to Grantaire, looping his arm around Grantaire’s empty arm. He felt his own heart flutter rapidly. 

“Sounds good, Enjolras,” Grantaire muttered, doing his best to conceal his joy. Once everyone had been sorted into four fairly even teams, everyone chose their game piece. Feuilly’s team ended up with the yellow little kid thing, or whatever you consider the game piece to be. Because it was his birthday, Feuilly drew the first card, which consisted of two bright magenta squares. It landed them one square shy of a shortcut, much to their disappointment. 

The next team, Joly, Musichetta and Bossuet, agree that Bossuet should not draw a card their first round. They were somewhat superstitious about his so called “bad luck”. Instead Joly drew a card, and celebrated as he advanced a single green square. Jehan and Marius drew a one square move, and Bahorel, Courfeyrac and Combeferre drew a picture card and advanced to the lead spot. 

The game continued on, with Grantaire pulling another picture card and earning Feuilly the leading spot. After five rounds of drawing cards, Bossuet had yet to draw one. “Come on you guys, you have to let him draw a card,” Grantaire prodded. Joly and Musichetta were already shaking their heads no, and Bossuet didn’t seem all too eager to draw a card. 

“He’s unlucky,” Joly tried to explain to him once more. “If he draws, we’ll lose for sure. Bossuet instigated this method of winning.”

“Sure did,” Bossuet added on, smiling at the leader board. “If I draw, we’ll lose our victory.”

Enjolras leaned forward, closer to the conversation, and frowned. “Now that doesn’t seem fair,” he noted with a sly grin. Grantaire caught on quick and sent a sly smirk his way. “Every other team has everyone drawing cards. What if we’re tarnished by bad luck? Every team member should draw a card.”

“Exactly,” Grantaire agreed, patting Enjolras on his back. “We’re all about equality here.”

Feuilly joined in, nodding enthusiastically. “I’m the birthday boy, thus I decree every member of every team must take equal turns drawing cards. Besides, you can’t really be cursed.”   
The argument elevated to a frenzied clamor of voices clashing, to the point where no one could make out a clear line of reasoning. It soon devolved to a raging chant of “let Bossuet play”, sung by every team but the unlucky trio’s. 

“Fine!” Bossuet cried, tossing his arms up in defeat. “Here goes nothin’,” he reached for the stack of playing cards and pulled the one on top away from the stack. “Shit!” He exclaimed, revealing the card to the rest of his friends. It was the candy cane guy, the very first picture card. Joly sadly moved their playing piece to the begging of the curvy pathway. They were in last place. 

While they cried about how unfair it was that Bossuet’s bad luck cursed their team, Grantaire sat back and chuckled. “They realize they would have drawn that card no matter who picked it? It was their turn, it’s not like the card was going to change,” he mumbled under his breath towards Enjolras, who nodded.

“They just like to be dramatic,” he said with an amused air. He seemed comfortable, even relaxed, when he spoke with Grantaire. Even in the dim lighting of Feuilly’s dingy basement, with chip crumbs stuck to his face and baggy old sweatpants on, Enjolras was radiant. Grantaire allowed himself to appreciate the miraculous human being before him, feeling a keen sense of intimacy with the boy. 

In the end, Feuilly won, which may have been due to some manipulation of the rules due to it being his birthday. “Well, moving onto to appreciating another important stage in my life,” Feuilly declared, beckoning everyone over after they finished packing up the board game, “time to play truth or dare: spin the bottle edition. Two games in one.” 

The group circled up and Feuilly procured an orange juice bottle from seemingly nowhere. “Because I won the last game, I’ll make the first spin.” He placed the bottle in the center of the circle and spun hard. The bottle spun quickly, but friction caught up to it and dragged it to a stop. The top of the bottle was aimed at Enjolras, who stared forward seemingly unconcerned at the new development. “Okay Enj, truth or dare?” Feuilly asked, wagging his eyebrows. 

Enjolras shrugged, sitting back and crossing his legs. After a moment’s consideration, he decided on “truth”. 

Feuilly acted as though he were deep in thought, then quickly resolved himself to asking “Do you have a crush on someone?” 

Enjolras looked much more flustered than Grantaire thought he would have been. His face turned red and he scratched the back of his neck, eyes gazing at the ground. “Um… yes,” he admitted, though none of his close friends seemed surprised. 

“Is he in the room?” Feuilly prodded, smiling giddily. 

“You only get one question,” Enjolras said stubbornly, reaching forwards to grab the orange juice bottle. “It’s my turn now”. 

Grantaire could only imagine what boy—or man—could be occupying Enjolras’ thoughts. Grantaire began dreaming up some mega-perfect civil disobedient protestor, with rippling muscles, perfect teeth, and an alarming amount of good morals and political involvement. It didn’t matter, it wasn’t as though anything would come of his miserable thoughts. He cleared his head and paid closer attention to the game. Enjolras was daring Marius now, struggling to come up with a good enough challenge for the lanky boy.

“Got it!” Enjolras declared, sitting up straighter. “Marius, I dare you to prank call Cosette!” Upon the mention of his beloved Cosette, Marius’ face turned red and he fidgeted in his spot. Cosette had been unable to attend Feuilly’s party, her father wasn’t partial to the idea of a sleepover at a boy’s house and she already had a previous engagement with some of her friends from her old school. Marius was determined to seem brave and tackle the dare to the best of his ability. 

“Okay, whose phone should I use?” He asked, his voice only quivering a little.

“She doesn’t have my number,” Grantaire volunteered. He shifted to retrieve his phone from his side and dialed up Cosette. “Here you go, lover boy.” Marius accepted the phone and took a deep breath in. “Put it on speaker!” Grantaire hissed just as she picked up. 

“Hello? Who is this?” Asked a grainy voice through his phone’s speakers. Cosette. 

“Um, hello ma’am,” Marius began, lowering his voice to a comical volume. The entire circle of friends were doing their best to stifle their laughter. “I’m calling on behalf of, uh… Johnson Electric, for a national survey. Is your refrigerator running?” 

The line was silent for a few seconds. Muted whispers and giggles could be heard on the other line, until finally, Cosette spoke up again. “Marius, is this you?” 

“Eek!” He cried, hanging up on Cosette and tossing the phone away from him. It landed in the middle of the circle, next to the orange juice bottle.

“Be careful with that, it’s my phone!” Grantaire admonished, lunging for it. Courfeyrac realized what was happening and decided to interpret it as a game, beating Grantaire to his phone and holding it above Grantaire’s head. 

Another arm flew into the picture, taking Courfeyrac by surprise. Musichetta now had possession of Grantaire’s phone, and soon it was being thrown around the circle faster than Grantaire could keep track of. Even Enjolras partook in the theft of his phone, laughing as Grantaire’s stubborn frown. “What a great group of friends you all are,” He noted, eyebrows raised in disbelief. 

“I’m gonna spin the bottle now,” Marius announced. After a couple more rounds it finally landed on Grantaire, who accepted the dare to take a shot of vinegar, and then proceeded to dare Bossuet to give him his phone back. It landed on Enjolras shortly after that, and Feuilly was out for blood.

“Truth or dare, Enj,” he spoke slyly, grinning from ear to ear. Enjolras caught on to his shifty behavior.

“Dare?” He asked unsurely, scratching his head. 

Feuilly was elated. “Okay, I dare you to… give us a hint about your crush.” A chorus of ‘oohs’ followed, and Grantaire was reminded of the miserable truth. Enjolras already liked someone. 

“Dude, that sounds like a truth. Do you have an actual dare?” Although he was defensive, Enjolras made his criticism sound rational and unbiased. It was funny to remember he was a high school kid trying to keep his crush a secret. 

“Okay, fine, let’s get a vote,” Feuilly decided, settling back comfortably. “We’ll go around and see if people think I should dare something else.”

Musichetta was the first to go. “Valid dare,” she declared. 

Joly followed. “Sounds like a truth to me, but what do I know?”

“Definitely a truth.”

“Nah man, he dared him.”

“Undecided.”

“I don’t know. Um, it’s a dare?”

“Ask him a real dare.”

“That was a real dare!”

“He just warped a classic ‘truth’ question to fit dare.”

It was a tie, all down to Grantaire’s opinion on Feuilly’s question. A part of him desperately wanted to know about Enjolras’ crush, while the other half of him wanted to close his eyes, put his hands over his ears, and shout “blah blah blah!” to cover up reality. “Okay Graintaire, deciding vote,” Feuilly said, eyes trained on him. “My question was totally a valid dare, right?”

Grantaire took a deep breath and looked around. Enjolras didn’t seem panicked, just annoyed, a drab expression gracing his beautiful face. Feuilly, on the other hand, was enthralled, eager and full of anticipation. It was Feuilly’s birthday, but the question really was a loophole to ask ‘truth’ when the recipient chose ‘dare’…. He hadn’t planned to debate over the morals of the game truth or dare, yet here he was philosophizing the correct answer to this seemingly empty question. 

“Of course it’s a dare,” he said with a nonchalant shrug, as though the question had very little emotional turmoil. 

“Majority wins!” Feuilly cried out. This was met with a stomping from upstairs and a shrill voice reminding him that his little sisters had already gone to bed. “Sorry mom!” He shouted back, defeating the purpose. 

“I suppose I can’t argue against democracy,” Enjolras said with a sigh. “What was the question again?”

“Who’s your crush?” Bahorel provided cheerily.

“No,” Feuilly corrected, “I said give us a hint about your crush. I’m not cruel.” 

“Alright,” he said in defeat. He glanced around, eyes lingering on Grantaire a tad too long before answering the dare. “He has green eyes and curly hair.”

“Sounds hot,” Feuilly replied, wagging his eyebrows. Enjolras laughed off the comment and leaned forward to spin the bottle himself. 

“Grantaire,” Enjolras said with a bit of excitement, “it landed on you. Truth or dare?”

Sure enough, the bottle was pointing at him and Enjolras’ blue eyes were trained on him. “Oh wow, look at that, it sure is. Um… truth.” 

“Awesome, cool, neat,” Enjolras rambled, almost as though he was trying to contain himself. “Okay, do you have a crush on anyone?”

Grantaire chuckled, rolling his eyes at the question. “Wow Feuilly, you were right, this really is like middle school. Um, the answer is yes, I do have a crush on someone.” Everyone began chattering with excitement and more questions arose, prodding Grantaire to reveal more. “You’re not getting anything else out of me you guys,” he said in exasperation, “how long does this game go on anyway? Don’t we need to watch Boss Baby?”

“We do,” Feuilly conceded, “but now I’m invested in your love life. Enjolras gave us a hint, won’t you, to end the game on a good note?”

“What, admitting I have a crush on someone wasn’t good enough for you?” Grantaire made sure to keep his tone light and joking, but he really didn’t want Enjolras piecing together his crush on him. Enjolras was smart and he was sure that if he spoke much longer, he would begin to get suspicious. Especially with Enj crushing on someone else, some perfect guy with green eyes and curly hair… for a split second Grantaire’s mind informed him that he, too, had green eyes and curly hair. A stupid thing to remind himself of, after all the slightest glimpse of hope would surely ruin his evening. He didn’t want to fixate on some stupid, fanciful idea. There were plenty of people with green eyes and curly hair. 

“Come on, just one more question R,” Joly pleaded, smiling eagerly. “What color is his hair? It’s a he, right? Does he go to our school? Is he in this room? What letter does his name start with? E?” He continued to prod, hitting a little too close to home. The look half the room was giving him told him they already knew. Courfeyrac definitely knew, which meant he’d told Combeferre, and Joly was hinting that he knew. If Joly knew he would definitely tell Musichetta and Bossuet, that is if he hadn’t already told him. He knew for a fact Bahorel knew. Feuilly seemed a bit oblivious to it all, as did Enjolras, thank goodness, but with a vast majority of the group in the know, it wouldn’t be long until the news was traversing the group chats. 

“Okay, I’m pretty sure most of you know,” he admitted stubbornly, getting gleeful cheers from the circle. 

“So I’m right? We’re right?” Joly asked. 

Enjolras looked lost. “What? Who are you guys talking about, do I know him?” 

That made the group erupt in laughter. “Trust me, you know him,” Musichetta said, and before she could add anything else Grantaire glared at her angrily. “But Grantaire wants to keep it on the down low. Sorry, I can’t reveal his crush to you. You gotta figure it out yourself, like the rest of us.”

God bless Musichetta. Well, she hadn’t helped his cause a whole lot, but she had refrained at the end, which Grantaire greatly appreciated. “Okay, amendment to my statement—because it is Feuilly’s birthday and a lot of you already know who, I will let him in on the big secret. I’m not going to tell anyone else.” At this point it seemed like Feuilly, Marius, and Enjolras were the only ones without a clue. “I’ll tell you if you swear to keep it to yourself.” 

Feuilly nodded eagerly, getting up quickly. “You can tell me in another room, I promise I won’t tell anyone else R.” 

He couldn’t believe he was doing this. He was about to tell another person. If Enjolras pieced together that he was crushing on someone in the group, he would probably assume everyone who knew wasn’t his crush. That would leave him and Marius. Enjolras would be able to rule out Marius easily, and then... there was no use fixating on it. He was sure that one way or another, before the end of senior year, Enjolras would figure it out. He still wanted to keep it to himself—well, not to himself, seeing as a majority of the group knew, but he wanted to keep it away from Enjolras. 

“I’m only telling you this because it’s your birthday,” Grantaire said in a hushed voice despite being in a completely different room on what appeared to be the other side of the house. Feuilly nodded in understanding, doing his best to look very serious. “And you won’t tell anyone?” 

“Of course not,” Feuilly replied. 

Grantaire let out a sigh. “It’s Enjolras. Enjolras is my crush,” he admitted in a single breath, his eyes to the ground. Just from that simple admission, his heart was beating rapidly.

Feuilly’s mouth opened in an ‘O’, his eyes wide in surprise. His expression of shock quickly morphed into one of excitement. “Dude! I totally see it!” He exclaimed. “So everyone else figured it out already?” 

Grantaire shrugged. “Bahorel’s known for a while. I’m pretty sure Courfeyrac and Joly know, and you know they’ll tell Combeferre, Bossuet and Musichetta. I’m just thankful Marius doesn’t know, because he can’t keep his mouth shut.”

Feuilly nodded. “Do you think…” he began to surmise, deep in thought, “that you might be Enjolras’ crush? I mean, you fit the characteristics perfectly.”

Grantaire laughed. “Yeah, and I’m also an asshole. Pretty sure assholes aren’t his type.” 

Feuilly shook his head stubbornly. “Bro, you’re not an asshole. I’m not gonna tell him, but you should really consider letting him know, or at least hinting at it!”

“I’ve been calling him Apollo for the past three months. He’s the most oblivious person I know.”

“Fair point,” Feuilly said with a shrug. “Well, I guess we should get back. It’s probably too late for musical chairs, but we can still watch Boss Baby.”

They did watch Boss Baby. They weren’t able to watch all 13 episodes, seeing as Feuilly was already out cold after the 5th, but it was much more fun than Grantaire ever would have surmised. The cheeky comments and criticism from the bunch made it so much better, not that the show wasn’t absolute gold already. He doesn’t remember falling asleep, but it had to be after three am. When he awoke the basement was still dim, and several of the others were still asleep. Feuilly was up, along with Courfeyrac, and they were trying to play a silent match of Jenga. It wasn’t working. Eventually everyone woke up and one by one, bid Feuilly farewell and happy birthday. Enjolras seemed a little bummed he was left out of the big secret, but Grantaire consoled himself by reminding himself Enjolras never revealed his crush. It was only fair. He would find out in time, Grantaire was sure. Grantaire was dreading that day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One chapter left! At least, I think so. I've yet to write it so I don't know if I'll end up tagging on one more chapter, but I think the conclusion will fit in the final chapter. Stay tuned! Thanks for all of the kudos and comments, they make my day :-)


	6. Step 6: Confess Your Undying Love For Him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is mild conflict... never fear, it will resolve promptly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have not proofread this yet but I really wanted to post it so please excuse any typos

Grantaire was surprised when Enjolras acted differently around him that Monday. He couldn’t think of anything he’d done to upset him, and he was 90% sure Enjolras didn’t know about the crush yet. So then why was he keeping his gaze focused on his shoes when he spoke to Grantaire in math? Why was he frowning all of lunch after Grantaire sat down next to him? Everyone else was normal from what he could tell. Feuilly was still on the birthday high, and the others clearly lacked sleep, but they were normal. They smiled at Grantaire in the morning, joked with him normally, and only teased him a little about Enjolras. 

The trend continued all week. Occasionally Enjolras would speak to him normally, get in a witty argument or pun battle. Then he’d get this look like he just remembered something foul, and retreat back into himself. It puzzled and concerned Grantaire, enough so that he had to talk to someone about it. 

“He’s gloomy?” Eponine asked, rubbing her chin. “Are you sure you didn’t leave anything out when you told me about the sleep over? Maybe you insulted him or something.”

Grantaire sighed. “We were fine. He said this super sweet thing about how I was welcome in their friend group and that I mattered to him early on in the night. And we were on the same team for candy land, we spoke normally, I made him laugh several times… he didn’t seem upset about the dare/truth debate. I sided with Feuilly, but I don’t think he’d be this upset because I didn’t side with him on that. He’s fine with everyone else who sided with Feuilly.” Grantaire was slumped over, his head resting on his arms in the middle of detention. He hadn’t done anything to get in, neither had Eponine, it was just nice to hang out in a quiet room with other miserable people.

Eponine ran her fingers through his unkempt hair. “Have you considered my other proposition? That he likes you?” She asked, working on untangling the curls. “His description of his crush fits you, after all.”

“If he likes me why would he be so sullen around me?” He retorted, burrowing deeper into his arms.

“That’s exactly what you’ve done the past four years, idiot.”

Grantaire huffed stubbornly. “That’s different.” He lifted his head, shifting to lean against the back of the chair. “Besides,” he continued, “Enjolras always speaks his mind when he’s upset about something. What if something larger is at play? Like family issues or something?”

Eponine pursed her lips. “I mean, that’s always a possibility, but you said he’s fine with everyone else. The issue has to be correlated with you.” 

“Guess so,” Grantaire agreed. 

“Would you two mind keeping it down?” piped Ms. Cantrel, a scathing glare on her face. “If you continue that ruckus I won’t let you loiter here anymore.” Eponine and Grantaire exchanged wary glances, each looking a tad surprised. Ms. Cantrel wouldn’t follow up on that threat, she was by far the laziest, most nonchalant teacher in the school, but they respected her somewhat. 

“Here’s a crazy idea,” Eponine said with a hushed dry, sarcastic tone, turning back to Grantaire and leaning in to whisper in his ear, “maybe talk to him about it.”

“I hate to say this, but you might be right.”

Of course, just because Eponine’s advice was helpful and rational didn’t mean he’d follow it. Instead, Grantaire continued everything normally, accepting the cold shoulders and inquisitive frowns sadly. He hoped that everything would straighten itself out, but to no avail. 

One particular meeting, he tried to poke fun at Enjolras. “What if instead of calling the senator to have a conversation with him, we just cussed him out?” He’d said, anticipating a scoff and embarrassed ‘no!’.

“What’s your problem?” He’d asked instead, his tone bitter. “Do you have to shit on all of my ideas?” This had shocked all of the Amis, who rarely heard Enjolras lash out at fellow members. Grantaire felt embarrassed and defensive. 

“It wasn’t anything personal,” he murmured, “just a joke.”

Sometimes when he was talking to the others, he’d catch Enjolras watching him sadly. As soon as he’d make eye contact, Enjolras would tear his eyes away from Grantaire and plaster a neutral look on his face. “Dude, what did you do to upset Enjolras?” Feuilly asked one day in a hushed tone.

“Nothing! I don’t know why he’s acting so strangely.”

Jehan jumped in on the conversation. “He’s been like this since your party, right Feuilly? Perhaps something happened then.”

Grantaire shook his head. “No, I’ve thought of everything. He was incredibly friendly at the party.” Jehan just shrugged.

“I hope you all get back to normal soon,” Feuilly said emphatically. “Enjolras seemed pretty happy around you.” 

After Enjolras had been acting upset for an entire week and a half, Grantaire decided to do something about it. Perhaps a few months ago he could have stomached the other boy acting morose around him, but after being exposed to his determination, compassion, and joy, watching Enjolras pout was devastating. He was trying to decide how to go about it when Enjolras approached him.

“Um, can you give me a ride home today?” He asked at lunch that day with no prompting. Grantaire was shocked.

“Yeah, totally. Of course.” Enjolras seemed satisfied with his answer and perked up. He wasn’t exactly smiling, but at least he wasn’t frowning. Enjolras didn’t say anything else the last few minutes of lunch, he just focused on his tuna sandwich.

Eponine was gracious enough when he told her of the development. “You don’t need to drive me home, you all need some alone time to get yourselves sorted. I’ll just go to wherever Musichetta is hanging out after school today. Last week was frozen yogurt, Joly’s treat. Hopefully I’ll get lucky again.” 

Grantaire thanked her profusely, which she got tired of rather quickly. “If you really appreciate my sacrifice that much, you’ll ask Enjolras out. Your choice.”

“Pfft, whatever,” he grumbled, shaking his head. Hopefully it wouldn’t come to that.

The rest of the day passed rapidly. All too soon he was waiting in the lobby for Enjolras. He didn’t have to wait long, he had just arrived in the lobby when he spotted Enjolras’ golden locks from across the room. “Enjolras!” He called, waving him over. The other boy was scanning the crowd, and Grantaire could pick out the moment Enjolras spotted him. His head stilled, his grip on his backpack tightened, and he smiled awkwardly. 

“Hey R,” Enjolras greeted, still avoiding eye contact with him. “You remember where I live?”

“Yep,” Grantaire replied, pulling out his keys. “You remember how far out my parking spot is?”

Enjolras chuckled, but it felt forced. “Yeah,” he answered, readjusting his grip on his backpack. A strap had been at risk of slipping off his shoulder, but it was corrected with a simple adjustment. Grantaire led the way out to his car, occasionally glancing at Enjolras. He didn’t attempt to start any conversations with him, partially out of fear and insecurity. After what felt like an eternity, they had made it to his car and Enjolras finally spoke up. “We need to talk,” he told Grantaire, his tone cold. Grantaire gulped. 

“Alright,” he replied. He opened the car door for Enjolras, then settled himself in the driver’s seat. He started the car so it could warm up, but kept it in park. “So, what’s wrong?”

“Why do you assume something’s wrong?” Enjolras asked, fiddling with his hands. Grantaire scoffed, unsure of how to answer that.

“You’ve been sad since Feuilly’s party, but I don’t know what I did,” Grantaire explained, watching Enjolras’ expression morph into understanding.

“You could tell?” He almost sounded embarrassed when he asked. At least he was maintaining eye contact with Grantaire now, even if he still seemed sad. 

“You were pretty obvious about giving me the cold shoulder, dude.”

Enjolras sighed. “I’m sorry R, I didn’t mean to make you feel like you’d done something wrong. I just… I was sad, I mean I am sad, and I decided I should go ahead and talk to you about it before you get the wrong idea.” 

“Alright, go ahead.” Grantaire shifted his weight so that he was facing Enjolras. The shadows on his face were harsh due to the bright afternoon sun and it made his expressions hard to read. His eyelashes casted long shadows across his cheekbones, making it dreadfully obvious every time Enjolras’ eyes flitted downwards. 

“Okay. I was just wondering why you aren’t comfortable around me. Have I done something to make you mistrust me? Have I been judgey? I really need to know.” He hesitated as he pieced together the statement, but still spoke coherently and boldly. Grantaire was taken aback.

“What makes you think you make me uncomfortable?” He asked, confusion written all over his face. Enjolras matched his expression, equally lost.

“You’re kidding, right?” He asked, and when Grantaire offered no explanation Enjolras sighed. “I’ve noticed you seem really self-conscious around me, but it didn’t really hit me until Feuilly’s party. When the whole crush issue came up, you trusted everyone else with your crush but me. You must have felt like I was a threat or would use the info against you, and I can’t think of why. I’ve been nothing but supportive of you and the LGBT community, after all I’m gay myself, and I can’t think of a time I’ve shamed someone because of who they liked. And ever since that happened, I’ve been trying to think of why you wouldn’t trust me. It’s really been bugging me, which is why I’ve been so dull around you. Of course I wasn’t trying to get your attention with my pouting, but you seemed to pick up on it rather quickly. So I guess what I’m trying to ask is: where did I go wrong? What did I do to make you feel like I wouldn’t be supportive of you?”

Oh. Grantaire was at a loss for words. Rather than assume the crush was on himself, Enjolras assumed Grantaire didn’t feel comfortable confiding in him. Which was true in this situation, but not for the reason he thought. “You haven’t done anything wrong, Enjolras. It was just a personal choice to not tell you,” Grantaire tried to explain, but Enjolras was having none of it. He was already worked up after his mini-rant, red in the face and breathing heavily. 

“No, that doesn’t make sense. You can tell me what I did, I won’t be upset. I just want to improve myself so you don’t feel this way again.” He was stubborn in his mindset, which was new because Enjolras always seemed so open minded. 

“Okay, think about it this way. You didn’t want to tell anyone else who your crush was. You’ve been less obvious about whoever it is, so they didn’t already know. Just because you wouldn’t tell me your crush doesn’t mean you don’t trust me, right? It’s just the type of thing you don’t want others to know. Crushes are embarrassing.”

Enjolras shook his head. “That’s very different. I have a completely valid reason for not telling you who my crush is.”

“Oh? And that is?” Grantaire asked, raising an eyebrow. “Do I gossip or something?”

He was met with silence. Enjolras was mulling over the conversation, trying to come up with his next line of defense to explain to Grantaire how he must be terribly upset with him. “Look, you don’t need to know why, this isn’t about my crush. I just want to know what I did wrong, and how I can fix it.”

“You can’t accept that you did nothing wrong?” Grantaire asked, almost exhausted. Enjolras shook his head resolutely. 

“I just want you to know you can be honest with me. I know I must have messed up somewhere.” Enjolras tried explaining once more that he blamed himself, and would not judge Grantaire for anything. “I want you to trust me.”

Grantaire took a deep breath, considering his options. “Okay, how about this. Would you believe that you didn’t do anything to make me uncomfortable if I told you who I like?”

Enjolras frowned, shaking his head. “Grantaire, I didn’t come here to force you to tell me who you like. I just want to know how I need to improve myself so that you feel safe!” 

Grantaire closed his eyes and allowed his shoulders to slump. “So you’re saying if I were to tell you who I like, you wouldn’t judge me and it wouldn’t change anything between us?”

“Yes, exactly! I want you to feel comfortable talking to me about any of your troubles,” Enjolras was about to ramble again, Grantaire could feel it. If Enjolras tried to leap into the importance of safe spaces and therapy Grantaire would lose his mind.

“Listen Enj,” He said strongly, cutting him off. Enjolras shut his mouth and stared at Grantaire, eyes wide and searching for some semblance of what was going on in Grantaire’s head. Grantaire wished he knew what he was thinking, too. “You didn’t do anything to lose my trust. I didn’t tell you who I liked because the person I like is you. Does that answer your question?” 

Grantaire wasn’t watching Enjolras for a reaction. Instead, he was slumped forward in his seat and his eyes downcast. If what Enjolras said about not judging him was true, then there shouldn’t be an issue. So why wasn’t Enjolras saying anything? “Okay Enjolras, you’re kinda freaking me out. We’re fine, right?”

When he finally looked at Enjolras, the other boy looked like he was in shock. His mouth was hanging open, jaw slack, as he stared at Grantaire in wonder. “Uh, hey Grantaire, wanna know why I wouldn’t tell you my crush?” Enjolras’ voice sounded rough. 

“Uh, sure?” Grantaire’s heart was already racing, adrenaline flooding his senses. 

“Because it’s you, too. You’re the person I like.”

“Oh.” 

Enjolras licked his dry lips, eyes drooping lower to gaze at Grantaire’s. “What do we do now? Kiss?” He finally asked, his blushing skin glowing vividly in the harsh light. His pupils were wide, expanding more as they spoke. Grantaire was sure he looked the same.

“I mean, that sounds good to me,” he replied, already leaning closer to Enjolras. 

“Sweet,” Enjolras replied giddily, leaning in as well. He reached forward and placed a hand in Grantaire’s curls. “You’re really pretty, Grantaire,” he hummed, smiling gently.

Grantaire chuckled, scooting closer so that their noses were bumping together. “No, you’re the prettiest, Apollo.”

“Oh!” Enjolras exclaimed, bumping his forehead against Grantaire’s. “Did you give me that nickname because you thought I was attractive and I was completely oblivious to it all?” 

Grantaire couldn’t help but chuckle at that. “Yeah, that’s pretty much what happened.”

“We should kiss,” Enjolras decided finally. Grantaire nodded in agreement and bridged the distance between their lips. It was a sweet, chaste kiss. Enjolras’ fingers toyed with his hair, and Grantaire placed his arm around the small of Enjolras’ back. It devolved into a hug, arms wrapped around each other tightly. 

“I’ve still got to get you home,” Grantaire realized, sitting upright. “So are we, like, dating now?” He asked, putting the car in drive.

“I sure hope so,” Enjolras replied earnestly. That made Grantaire laugh, loud and unhampered by insecurities. 

“How do we tell the others?” Grantaire wondered out loud, only half paying attention his driving. They had been sitting in his car so long the lot was practically empty, so there wasn’t much to focus on. 

Enjolras smiled, “Don’t worry, I’ve got it covered.”

The group chat exploded as soon as Enjolras changed the name. It no longer read “Shazam Squad”, an endearing name given by Courfeyrac. Instead, it read “Enjolras has a boyfriend and his name is Grantaire”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter! It resolved pretty quickly, but I'll probably tag on an epilogue chapter in a few weeks. Hope you enjoyed!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I will try to update every few days. Please let me know what you think!


End file.
